


Kintsugi

by paburke



Series: Kintsugi [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: But they aren't even friends yet, Gen, Marriage of Convenience, Sabé is trying to keep the PTSD Jedi from screwing up her god-children
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-29
Updated: 2018-09-29
Packaged: 2019-07-20 07:39:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16132700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paburke/pseuds/paburke
Summary: What would have happened to the children had Padmé not told Dormé what was happening?  If the handmaidens had not tracked down Padmé’s starship?  But now they had and they will not let the Jedi's original plans happen.  The twins will know of their mother.





	Kintsugi

-owk->bt-

 

The argument raged throughout the room.  The former handmaidens refused surrender.  It was bad enough that the twins had to be separated; the handmaidens didn’t know enough of the Force to refute that argument, but each one would have a Nabooian guard at their side.  Padmé would be remembered by her own children.  They would not grow up in ignorance. 

Bail had asked for Leia and Dormé had wanted to be a nanny for so long.  Dormé would follow Leia.  She had taken courses and studied in preparation of Padmé’s child.  Even if Dormé was recognized, Padmé was a good friend of Bail and he would have given a job to any handmaiden instantly.

Luke was the issue.  Master Kenobi had assumed responsibility of the boy but was declaring that a handmaiden would stand out where he was heading.  The women hated that; anywhere that was too rough and poor for a handmaiden was too rough and poor for Padmé’s son.

“Not if she’s your wife,” Fe argued.

Kenobi stared as if she had slapped him.  “My wife.”  He sounded horrified…. No, gutted by the idea.  Sabé realized just how wounded the Jedi was if she could read his normally inscrutable face.  “No, I will give Luke to a family and watch from a distance…”

The women raised an immediate protest.  Luke?  Without someone known to hold him, to love him, to tell him the story of how his parents met?  No.  NO.  Absolutely not.

Kenobi watched the women argue, but his focus was not there.  Sabé realized his focus was on the small Jedi Grandmaster.  The Grandmaster was the one to declare the twins separated and all plans now revolved around it.  Whatever the Grandmaster declared in Luke’s case, Kenobi would do.  The human Jedi was so broken that he _couldn’t_ make such decisions.  Sabé had a sudden revelation; the handmaidens were focusing their words in the wrong direction.  (What would have happened to the children had Padmé not told Dormé what was happening?  If the handmaidens had not tracked down Padmé’s starship?)

Sabé backed out of the argument and knelt before the Grandmaster.  Master Yoda opened his eyes after a few seconds.  He seemed startled momentarily at Sabé at his feet.  Then he nodded at her.  Sabé couldn’t help but to relax, even without knowing his decision.

“A wife you shall take,” Yoda declared.

“M-Master Yoda,” the famed Negotiator blanched and _stuttered_.  He had expected the very opposite.  What Master Yoda was demanding was against the Jedi Code.

“Better for the new Order it shall be.”

Kenobi seemed to freeze.  “I _can’t._   Please, Master Yoda, don’t…”

“Decision you must make.”  Last word said, Master Yoda hopped off his chair and limped out of the room.

Kenobi was the focus of the handmaidens again and _he took a step in retreat_ under their combined gazes.  In any other situation, being able to make this Jedi retreat would be a victory, but it was yet another sign of their utter defeat.  “My ladies,” he pleaded.  “You don’t understand what has been tasked.”

They didn’t care.  “Pick your bride, Master Kenobi,” Eirtaé challenged.

“Not you,” Kenobi retorted. 

Eirtaé almost protested, then remembered that she was the only blonde of the group and of a certain Duchess –now dead- who had sobbed at Master Kenobi’s funeral ruse.  She nodded in acceptance.  “I don’t have the backbone to drag you into good mental health, anyway.”

The other women heard her and as one turned to Sabé.  Yes, Sabé would accept this task, one last and lasting mission on behalf of her Queen.  She stood and approached the Jedi Master.  She remembered him as a Padawan who had saved her when they had been waiting on Tatooine for Padmé to return.  She remembered the sacrifice of his Master on Theed.  She remembered him as Anakin’s teacher, trying to impart wisdom and peace.  She remembered the mourning man who had brought her Queen to the med center to die of injuries inflicted by her husband.  His impassivity did not veil the shards of his brokenness. 

Sabé held out a hand to him.  “Will you marry me, Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi?”

“Obi-Wan Kenobi is dead,” he spat, anger rising to the surface.  “The Jedi are dead.”  _His family was dead_ , was unspoken but still heard.  The Code was dead if Master Yoda was advocating this plan.  _He wished_ he _was dead._

She nodded in understanding.  Sabé’s Queen was dead. Part of her wanted to join Padmé in the grave.  “Very well.  Who do you wish to be?”

“We just need a name for the forged records,” Fe prompted softly.  Once again she was thinking ahead to the plan details.

“Ben,” he finally said.  “Ben will do.”

Sabé took two steps and closed the space between them.  She placed her hand on his chest, his breathing was labored.  Was he injured from the battles of the week?  From the years of war?  He looked at her hand and back at her.  His eyes were immeasurably sad.  He was no longer the handsome padawan the handmaidens had giggled over; he was a broken general, a lone survivor.  Bereaved.  Unmoored.

As of this moment, he was hers.  She stood on her toes and kissed the corner of his mouth.  She tasted ash in his beard.  “Ben Typho,” she named him a common Naboo surname.  Captain Typho had scores of nephews, cousins and far relations employed for the security of Naboo.  If someone managed to link Sabé with Amidala, her husband, Ben Typho, would just be one of many security Typhos.  They had the access to forge a complete identity. “We will face the future together.”  She saw acknowledgement in his eyes as she spoke the Nabooian marriage benediction.

He sighed.  He lacked the will to argue. 

Sabé waited.  It would do his mental health no good if she ran roughshod over him from the beginning.  Finally, he nodded.

“You will need proper clothes,” Fe said decisively. 

“And a haircut,” Dormé added.  “The beard will have to go as well.”

Kenobi- Ben- managed to dredge up enough emotion to protest.  “Surely that’s not necessary.”

“You are of Naboo now,” Eirtaé declared.  “You need to look it.”

-owk->bt-

“Master Yoda,” Ben knelt before the Grandmaster, perfectly styled as Naboo ex-security.  “Why?  What did you See?”

“Better future it is.  For Jedi, for you.”

“But marriage?”

“Help you it will.”  A swat of a glimmer stick at the unspoken thought, “Deserve it you do.”

Ben could not bring himself to argue something he knew to be false.

-owk->bt-

**Author's Note:**

> Kintsugi is a Japanese art form in which breaks and repairs are treated as part of the object's history. Broken ceramics are carefully mended by artisans with a lacquer resin mixed with powdered gold, silver or platinum. The repairs are visible — yet somehow beautiful. Kintsugi means "golden joinery" in Japanese


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